"Welco to my humble kingdom, Queen Lucy Rature," King Valemir Granger spoke, his voice deep and smooth.
The King of the Crescent Kingdom was no ek monarch. Towering at 6'2", Valemir carried the weight of royalty and war alike. His silver-white beard was trimd with precision, matching the regal sweep of his back-slicked hair. His physique was that of a man who had once led charges through blizzards and blood—broad-shouldered and solid. And a white-gold crown rested upon his brow.
Lucy stood slightly, a subtle incline of her fra—respectful, but far from submissive. "The honor is mine, King and Queen Granger," she replied, her voice cool as mountain wind.
Beside Valemir sat Queen Elanora Granger—the mirror of elegance and the source of Princess Sheila's captivating beauty. Her snow-white hair frad those piercing blue eyes that ran through the family like legacy etched in frost.
"It's been a long ti, Lucy," Elanora said softly, her voice tinged with nostalgia.
"It has," Lucy nodded, a trace of a sigh in her words. "And truthfully, I wish this visit ca under better circumstances. But the stars seem fond of chaos."
Valemir leaned forward slightly, as did the others at the table. "Then please," he said, "tell us why you've requested this audience."
Lucy inclined her head, then straightened. "Very well. Months ago, sothing happened—sothing we had no precedent for. A noble of mine—soone once honored—committed cris so severe that I had no choice but to order her death."
She let that settle for a beat.
"Her na was Duchess Aveline. But when my assassin arrived, they reported sothing… absurd. Aveline wasn't human anymore. She was changing—in the process of transforming into a Gaia Demon. She was killed before the change could complete, but the signs were undeniable."
A stir swept through the chamber, murmurs rising—but Valemir lifted a hand, and silence returned.
"I appointed Mystica," Lucy continued, gesturing slightly toward Mystica, who sat beside her. "She ran tests, dug into forbidden records. And with help—soone I won't na here—we discovered sothing terrifying. Aveline had been exposed to demon blood… but not just any."
Lucy took a breath, eyes sweeping the room.
"It was Sylvathar's blood."
The air cracked like ice.
Even the guards at the doors shifted, eyes wide. The advisors and officials around the table stiffened. King and Queen Granger themselves froze, their expressions unreadable but laced with tension.
Sylvathar. The na alone was enough to send kingdoms into paranoia. A Demon Lord. A living apocalypse. A shadow none dared speak of in recent decades.
"What… do you an by Sylvathar's blood?" Valemir asked cautiously.
"I an what I said," Lucy replied flatly. "The blood. Of Sylvathar. What other way is there to interpret that?"
There was a pause before another voice broke the tension.
"So, Queen Rature," said a rotund man in an elaborate deep blue robe laced with golden swirls. His thick brown mustache twitched as he spoke, and his fingers glittered with rings. "Are you suggesting you've co here seeking the Crescent Kingdom's assistance in dealing with this threat?"
It was Berg Thuden, royal advisor of the Crescent throne—and a man known for indulgence and politics alike.
Lucy's gaze t his, cool and piercing.
"If that were the case, I wouldn't have bothered with this eting," she replied. "My kingdom can handle this. If—and only if—it were isolated to us."
The room went dead silent.
Valemir's face darkened as understanding sank in. "…This is spreading."
"It already has," Lucy said quietly. "All three kingdoms are facing it. The entire continent is under threat."
"A threat, you say," ca a asured voice, calm but lined with subtle challenge.
The speaker was a man draped in a robe similar in color to Berg Thuden's—deep blue with gold accents—but far more refined in cut and symbolism. His long white beard rested against his chest, and a pair of crystal-rimd glasses sat low on his nose. This was Eliv Borges, the royal mage of the Crescent Kingdom—one of the most respected arcanists on the continent and, like Mystica, a Primordial.
"You say there's a threat," Eliv continued, his voice smooth and steady. "And yet, you haven't actually nad the threat. You ntioned Sylvathar, yes, and a noblewoman transforming into a Gaia Demon. But what danger lies beyond that? What proof do you have of a continental crisis?"
His gaze, sharp and probing, locked onto Lucy like a sword drawn slow and silent.
"And if this truly affects all three kingdoms," he added, "where is Solara's representative?"
Lucy didn't flinch. She simply exhaled a soft breath through her nose, as though amused.
"Perfect timing," she said, gesturing to her left. "I was just about to ask my mage to explain."
Mystica stood with casual grace, her movents fluid as usual. A subtle smirk danced on her lips as she offered a polite bow to the room.
"Greetings," she said, voice lyrical with an edge of mischief. "I'm Mystica Moonstone, trusted mage of Queen Lucy."
Her violet eyes flicked toward Eliv with playful boldness.
"Before I begin laying out your evidence," she said, "I'd kindly ask Mage Eliv to remove the suppression arrays surrounding this chamber. I'd prefer not to explain theory when I could show truth."
The mont they'd stepped into the chamber, Mystica had felt the subtle pressure on her soul—magic being muted, leashed by ambient spellwork. It was faint, hidden, but to a Primordial, it was like catching a scent on the wind.
Eliv's expression didn't shift much, but inwardly he was impressed.
'She noticed it so quickly. As sharp as the rumors claid. A rare kind of clarity… especially for one so young.'
Without a word, Eliv tapped his fingers rhythmically against the table—three tis.
The weight lifted instantly. Mystica's essence uncoiled like a predator stretching its limbs.
"Thank you," she said with a wicked smile. "Now… brace yourselves. What I'm about to reveal may shatter the comfort of what you thought you knew."
And then, the air around Mystica rippled.
With a flick of her fingers, space itself bent—her spatial magic humd quietly. And then, the corpse of Duchess Aveline slipped out of her dinsional storage, suspended midair by a gentle current of air magic, hovering just inches above the floor.
Gasps filled the room.
There she was—half-woman, half-demon. Aveline's body was twisted and grotesque, her transformation into a Gaia demon frozen at its climax. Moss-like skin crept up one side of her face, while jagged bark had begun replacing her limbs. It was the kind of sight that stuck to your soul like tar.
A few nobles clutched their mouths, struggling not to gag.
"This," Mystica said smoothly, "is what remained of Duchess Aveline at the mont of her death."
"By the gods," Berg muttered, face paling. "Why would you bring that in here? I was hoping for a feast later…"
Mystica spared him a flat look. "You asked for proof."
Her gaze flicked to Eliv.
"Now, before anyone jumps to ask how we confird this creature bore the blood of Sylvathar himself and not just a regular Gaia demon…" she said, stepping forward, her voice rich with promise, "I ask only this: watch closely."
She raised her arms wide, fingers outstretched. A pair of glowing blue sigils ignited in her palms and shot streaks of light into the air—like soft fireworks, controlled and precise. The light flared out and then solidified, forming two floating orbs of green blood, each pulsing with magical energy.
She gestured to the one on the left.
"This," she said, "is the blood of a Sync-class Gaia demon."
It pulsed steadily—strong, yes, but with a rhythm that was almost familiar, containable.
Then her hand shifted to the one on the right.
"And this… is the blood found in her," Mystica said, nodding toward the suspended corpse. "Feel the difference."
And they did.
The second sample pulsed with energy that was wild and radiant. It was stronger and darker.
A hush fell over the room.
Even Eliv's breath caught.
Mystica let the silence stretch before speaking again.
"This… is Sylvathar's blood. And it flowed through her veins."
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